FIC: Heel

To:@windsorgirllove

From:@chessanator​

Well, that certainly managed to expand from what I’d first planned! I hope you find this exploration of the Myrmidons in the world post-Zero-Time-Dilemma as intriguing as it was to write.

AO3

Content warnings for terrorism and suicide bombing and maybe related warnings.

12th December 2028

Today was the day. Myrmidon Trainee Left would take his final test, prove that he’d learned the skills needed to impose Brother’s will on a fallen, degenerate world. His performance would be reviewed by the Lefts that had come before him and then, Brother be willing, he’d be a fully-fledged operative of Free the Soul.

All Left had to do was undertake one single trial mission to prove his competence. So that was why he was in the staging area of the Myrmidon compound, standing against the left-hand wall and waiting for his trial to begin. Every muscle in his body was itching to move, to work off the tension that was building. But Left didn’t. Myrmidons did not pace. Anyone who wore the noble face of Left was too dignified for that.

So instead Left looked over the rest of the room from his vantage point on the side. The fleet of vehicles arrayed in the centre, the rows of armouries across the opposite wall, Left surveyed them all and grounded himself in this location. These were the tools he would need to become familiar with it as he took up the standard as an actual Myrmidon. And he also watched the other Lefts hurrying back and forth as they prepared for their own missions, his comrades against a world too vile to be allowed to exist.

Left’s attentiveness also served him well when he saw his Drill Sergeant entering the staging area through the main doors at the back end. Even as Sergeant Left advanced across the staging ground at a brisk, purposeful pace, Left was able to make himself presentable and stand at attention just as the Sergeant arrived.

“Look lively, Trainee!” Sergeant Left belted out as he came to a halt in front of Left and received his crisp salute. “Today’s the day when we find out what you’re made of. Do you know what you’re made of, Trainee?”

“Sergeant! I am made of the pure soul that will inherit the new world, Sergeant!”

“That’s right, Trainee Left!” Sergeant Left replied. “And I’m not going to be having you tarnish the good name of Left out in the field today.” He paused just a moment, his eyes scanning Left up and down as he let his statement sink in. Then he asked, “Are you scared, Trainee?”

It took about half a second too long for Left to get out his reply. “No, Sergeant!”

The Sergeant snorted his displeasure. “That’s a lie, Trainee, and you know it! I can see you quaking at the knees!” He leaned in, just close enough to let his voice blast into Left’s ear even though he’d barely raised it above a mutter. “Luckily for you, you aren’t the first lily-livered Left clone to pass through my hands. None of them failed their debut missions, even the ones who were even more maggoty specimens of Myrmidons than you are. Do you know why, Trainee?”

There was only one possible answer to that. “No, Sergeant!”

“Because you don’t have my permission to fail! That’s why you’re going to get out there, do your duty, and you’re not going to stop until you’ve made Brother proud. Do you hear me?!”

Left offered a firm and vigorous nod. “Yes, Sergeant!” He was a Left. He’d soon be a Myrmidon. If anyone had the tools to succeed in carrying out Brother’s will, he did. “What’s the mission?” he asked, respectful but increasingly impatient.

“We’re getting to that,” the Sergeant replied. He stepped away from Left and turned around, calling out to a knot of Left clones huddled in conversation near the hub of computer terminals at the back corner of the staging area. “You there, Ops? Get over here and give this Left his first assignment.”

One of the Lefts in the crowd straightened up, murmured parting words to the clones he’d been talking to, then headed over to Left and his Drill Sergeant. Left recognised him as the Chief of Operations for this Free the Soul compound, even though he’d been so far above the trainees in Left’s group as to never interact with them before now. “What’s the situation, Sergeant?” Ops Chief Left asked the Sergeant.

The Sergeant replied brusquely and succinctly. “Got a neophyte here who needs a suitable training mission. I understand you have one ready?”

The Ops chief brushed his golden hair aside with one slick motion, then nodded to the Sergeant. “That’s right. Yes, this mission is well within the capabilities of a new agent.” Turning towards Left, Ops pulled out a brown envelope from his suit and handed it to him. “Looks like you’re heading to the other side of the country, young man. Examine that briefing carefully. You’ll need to accomplish the objectives methodically and to the best possible standards if you’re to get perfect marks on your graduation as a true Myrmidon.”

“Yessir!” Left replied.

He opened the envelope and – after a quick glance at the Sergeant’s and the Chief’s expressions – opened it up. The mission briefing inside gave Left the location of a penthouse apartment in Denver which needed to be blown up at a specific time and day. Left would be provided with the explosives, but the method by which he’d gain entry and plant it would – surely to prove that he’d developed enough of his own initiative – be his to devise.

“What’s the purpose of this mission?” Left asked the Ops Chief. “Where does it fit into our Brother’s vision?”

The Sergeant cut in. “Do you have a need to know, Trainee?! Is there some pressing need you haven’t told the rest of us?” he belted out in his full disciplinarian growl.

But the Chief cut him off. “It’s important for every last one of us to understand the majesty of Brother’s stratagems,” he said. Turning around and gesturing across all the activity and materiel in the staging area with a graceful sweep of his hand, the chief explained, “The apocalypse will soon be upon us. The day when Brother cleanses the world of all the corrupted filth that’s kept humankind from perfection.”

“Amen!” Left and his Sergeant intoned in unison.

“Unfortunately, our enemies in the outside world have recognised our increased activity in the past few months. Degenerate as they are, we have to expect that at least some of them might anticipate our final operation, and move to hinder us. Therefore we need to give them multiple lines of attack to consider, to disguise our ultimate goal.”

“So… this is just a diversion?” Left had hoped to do great deeds in Brother’s name, to advance the cause of Free the Soul as best he could in one brilliant action. His frown drooped as his daydreams of heroism, and of the unanimous acclaim of his fellow Lefts, slipped away.

“Don’t worry, young Left,” the Ops Chief added. “Even if this isn’t part of the primary mission, you’ll still be striking a blow against Brother’s enemies. The penthouse you’ll be targeting is owned by a judge who’s targeted businesses owned by those who’ve been enlightened to the truth of the soul. His mockery of justice has caused him to spit on Brother’s teachings. He doesn’t even deserve the chance to survive into Brother’s new world.”

The Sergeant placed his hand firmly on Left’s right shoulder. “Shall we get this kid kitted up and ready to go then, Ops?” he asked. “Best to get him out on the road before he overthinks this.”

“Not just yet,” Ops interrupted. “We have a taskforce arriving back any moment. We’ll need to keep the staging area clear for them. Hold back until they’re settled and debriefed.”

At that moment a loud but not-particularly harsh warning klaxon sounded throughout the staging area as the blast doors at the front – the only entrance to the compound – began to rise. Once the doors were fully open three sleek black civilian cars drove in at pace, coming to a halt in the space just in front of the vehicle parking lot. Their occupants climbed out: three Left clones and the handful of Free the Soul acolytes who’d served them.

Their leader – a Left in a slick black greatcoat – locked eyes on the Operations Chief almost immediately and began to head over. Just watching him walk – poised, utterly perfect strides – it was clear to Left that this was a highly experienced operative. The ideal human form was a Left, and the ideal Left was this agent. Left felt like he should have recognised which Left this was in an instant. Maybe once he was more experienced, he’d be better at that.

“Report, Agent Left,” the Ops Chief ordered the newly arrived Left.

“Mission successful.” The Agent got into his report. “We recovered the data and ensured our enemy had no further copies of it. Not a single casualty, of course.” He flashed a confident grin. “Had to sacrifice the asset we used, in the end. But that’s a bonus, in my judgement. Nothing connecting her to us.”

“Good work, Agent,” the Chief replied. “Have your acolytes pack away your equipment and vehicles and then head back to quarters. We shouldn’t need your services for another week, but keep yourself prepared. The time is upon us.”

“Righteo,” the Agent replied. “I’m always ready to bring the fury to our enemies, whatever it takes.” With that, he turned to walk away.

Something clicked in Left’s mind. “Wait!” he called after the departing Left. “You’re that Left, aren’t you? The hero? The best of the best. The operative who rescued one of our brothers from captivity by SOIS, and successfully tracked down executed that Free the Soul member who fled after questioning Brother’s teachings.”

The Elite Agent turned back around. “That’s me, alright.”

“I can’t believe I get to meet you! And on this day, as well!”

“This Trainee,” the Sergeant said, “is just about to undertake his first mission, finish off his training. Any tips for him before he goes?”

Left nodded at his Sergeant, then turned back to the Elite, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Yessir, please sir! I’ll take anything you can teach me. Any unique killing method that only elites can manage? Or any super-specialised breaking-and-entering skills; I’ll need that for my mission.”

The Elite chuckled. “You’re an eager one, aren’t you Left?” He nodded to himself a couple of times. “If you want my advice, you shouldn’t focus on the flashy stuff. Hone your basics. Ninety percent of being a Myrmidon is just waiting. Patience, and observation. Train up those and no-one can beat you. That’s why we Myrmidons, who’ve divorced ourselves from temptation and worldly distraction, are the best in the world.”

Chastened, Left glanced away. But then he looked back up and met the other Left’s gaze. “Thank you, sir!” he belted out, probably more forcefully than was necessary.

“Let’s get you ready,” the Sergeant said to Left. He turned to the two others. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Brother be with you,” the Operations Chief said. “We’ll need every good Myrmidon we can get in the new world.”

The Sergeant led Trainee Left to one of the vehicles on the closer side of the parking lot: a rugged and sturdy four-wheel drive. The explosives Left would need were already stored in a hidden compartment under the floor, the map showing his route across the country already stored in the glovebox. Once the blast doors had opened once more Left drove off, heading towards his destiny and Brother’s bright future.

He succeeded in his mission, of course. There was no way a Myrmidon could fail.

—-

31st December 2028

Today was the day. Operations Chief Left would be overseeing the most important event in human history. Brother had entrusted it to him personally, the responsibility of ensuring the safety of D-Com and the underground bunker and preventing anyone from interfering as Brother brought about the end of the old world.

“Status report,” he commanded. Everything had been quiet so far, but as the leader in control of this operation he’d need to stay on top of the incoming information in order to make the right decisions in the moment.

It was the Left on the nearest com-console that replied. “No contacts within the inner three perimeters. Some activity at the fourth line but it looks like civilians only, normal activity. We’re still waiting for reports from the fifth line.” This Left clone had only recently graduated from his status as a Trainee, and been posted to desk work in the Operations Centre to teach him temperance and iron out some of his over-eagerness. He’d taken to it surprisingly well, considering.

“Keep an eye out,” Left replied, “and update me if anything new comes in.”

The Lefts at the various com-consoles nodded and turned back to their screens with renewed attentiveness. Leaning over his podium at the head of the room Left went back to studying the large display that covered the wall opposite, studying the topography of the various defensive lines the Myrmidons had set up around the sacred site. If he was able to anticipate where the threat would come from he’d do Brother proud.

“It’s too quiet,” someone murmured.

Left twisted his head around. That voice had come from a Left leaning against the rear wall. Unlike every other Left in the Ops Centre he wasn’t in the proper sacramental robes of Free the Soul. If any concerted attack from Free the Soul’s enemies did come this Elite Agent would lead his squad in the counterattack, so he needed to be able to blend into the civilian population: he wore the greatcoat he often donned for this sort of mission profile.

“Surely that’s something to be grateful for, Left” the Ops Chief replied to the Elite. “Yet more proof that the will of the world is with us, if anyone here still needed it.”

The Elite Agent shook his head. “You brought me in here for my advice. My insights. Well, that’s what my intuition is telling me.” He paused, scratching his chin. “I wish we had footage from inside. Leaving our Brother in there with those scum…” He put on a mock shudder. “We ought to be in position to defend Him, in case anything goes wrong.”

“We cover the external security only,” Left snapped. “Brother’s direct orders. The honour of what happens today belongs to Him and Him alone.”

“I’m sure Brother’s decision is wise,” the Elite conceded, making the sign of the ‘f’ as he did so. But Left couldn’t help but notice the slight delay before he did so.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Not that the Chief of Operations was idle: one could never be idle in service of the Truth, and he spent each and every hour evaluating potential threats, considering countermeasures, and organising the rest of the Myrmidons so they’d be ready to defend Brother with their lives. But since no threats materialised, it seemed that the only event that would take place this night was the holy transformation of the world that would take place inside the underground bunker.

That didn’t change until an hour after dawn, when the recently-graduated Trainee stood up from his com-console and turned to salute Left. “Sir! Report from the fifth perimeter, sir! Possible Crash Keys activity, coming from the south-east.”

“Details, Left,” the Chief commanded.

The Trainee turned back to his screen, tapping away at his keyboard. When he raised his head again his expression was concerned but sure. “Our observers at the fourth perimeter got a better view, sir. It’s a small convoy: only three vehicles. But it’s definitely Crash Keys. We recognised some of their operatives onboard. And they’re definitely heading towards the Holy Site, ETA ninety minutes.” The main display screen opposite updated to show the path of the incursion.

The Myrmidons would need to respond. Left instinctively glanced over towards the Elite again, but… No. There weren’t enough enemies to justify committing the elite squad of Lefts; in any case, it could be a diversion.

“Sergeant!” Left called out towards the group of armed and kitted up Lefts that stood near the door through to the staging area. “Take a squad of acolytes and shadow these Crash Keys interlopers. Engage when they reach the third perimeter. Observation only, until then.”

“Yes, sir!” The Sergeant opened the door and began efficiently calling orders through to the other side. If this was the only threat to Brother’s plan then the Myrmidons would have it well in hand.

But then another interruption came. “Sir! There’s activity by D-Com!” shouted the Left who was manning the com-console.

By D-Com? No enemy should have gotten that close to the Holy Site.

“It’s the Mars Mission test subjects,” Trainee Left continued. “They’re lying on the ground outside. And that’s… That’s Brother! Brother’s outside, too!”

It was about the right time for Brother’s grand design to conclude. Was it complete, then? Was the cleansing of the world now inevitable? Even if it was, Left still had a job to do. “Ready your squad, Agent,” he said to the Left still leaning against the wall behind him. “Be ready to bodyguard our Brother. With enemies this close to Him we can’t take a single risk.”

“About time,” the Elite Agent replied. He stretched out his arms and his thighs. “I was looking forward to cracking some of our enemy’s heads, but if this is what I’ve gotta do for Free the Soul…”

Left turned his attention back to the Trainee’s computer screen. On it he could see Brother speaking to the subjects, though without sound he couldn’t know what was being said. It looked like none of the subjects were a threat to Brother – they were all still dazed from the anaesthetic that had been used on them, but he would be far more comfortable once he had loyal Myrmidons by his side to protect Him.

Especially since some instinct was pricking him, warning that something was amiss. He peered intently at the image of his Brother on the screen, trying to work out what was triggering that instinct. Was that… all nine of the test subjects, there? Weren’t six of them supposed to have been sacrificed to bring about the uncorrupted world?

Then, while Left’s attention was focused entirely on his Brother, the lights in the Operations Centre flickered.

“Sir…” the Left at the com-console said hesitantly, “the computers are doing something… strange. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He paused, fiddling with one of the controls. “Is this something we should expect, sir? Part of Brother’s plan for today?”

“No,” the Chief replied. At least, Brother hadn’t informed him if it was part of today’s plan. “Contact our computer technicians and get them to –”

And then everything in the Ops Centre – computers, main display screen, lights, everything – went out.

Operations Chief Left reacted instinctively. “Has anyone got eyes on Brother?!” he bellowed. The radios were still working, thank Brother, but with all the cameras down they were going to have to rely on human eyes to gather information about what was going on outside. Perfect human eyes, it was true – no eyes could be better than those that belonged to the Lefts – but unenhanced nonetheless.

Through Left’s earpiece, one of the Lefts at the innermost and final perimeter responded. “No! He’s vanished! We have eyes on the test subjects outside D-Com, but Brother’s disappeared! Just vanished!” There was silence, and heavy breathing, for a few seconds. Then the earpiece squawked again. “What’s going on in there?!”

Left didn’t know. “Get these computers back up and running!” he ordered. “There has to be some to get around what’s happening.”

The Sergeant was the first to react, “Get those servers opened up!” he ordered, leading two of his acolytes over to the back of the short wall that held all the com-consoles. Under his direction the acolytes pulled open the panels on the other side, and then the Sergeant peered in at the servers contained inside. “Brother damnit!” he exclaimed. “What forsaken soul-closed cur put that there?!”

“Details, Sergeant,” the chief demanded.

The Sergeant peered in more closely, then explained. “Some infernal device attached to the cables. There’s no way that’s supposed to be there. If we just get it off…”

“Hold it!” It was the Elite Agent who’d interrupted. He rushed over, almost barging the Sergeant out of the way. “It could be booby trapped. No: of course it’s booby trapped.” He took out a small flashlight and trained it into the server cabinet. “I’ve seen this before…” he murmured. “No. I’ve used this before.”

Left frowned. “Can you disarm it?”

The Elite scowled. “Of course I can.”

“Then get to work. We need everything up and running as soon as possible. Brother needs it. All of Free the Soul needs it.”

With that, Left could just stand at his command podium, waiting. It was out of his hands, now. He’d just have to put his faith in Brother that the Agent could remove the device.

And, after an agonising minute, he did. The lights started to flicker back on.

“Nasty little device, that,” the Elite Agent said as he pulled the guts of that device out of the servers. “Would have corrupted everything on all our computers permanently, if I hadn’t known what I was doing. But they should be up any moment now, thanks to me.”

It took a bit longer than just a moment, but one by one the com-consoles around the Operational Centre turned on. Multiple Lefts – including the recent Trainee – breathed sighs of relief as they regained the ability to do their duty. And then, finally, the main display screen returned, still showing the map of the area around the Holy Site and the footage of the D-Com test subjects. Though, another information window had appeared on the main display, one that hadn’t been there before.

It read, ‘Time to Self-Destruct: 7:58.’

The Sergeant scowled bitterly. “When did that come on? Which one of you mangy idiots turned on the self-destruct?”

“No. It wasn’t any of us,” Chief Left said. “It must have been part of the same sabotage caused by that device. We couldn’t see that it’d been turned on because the computers were down.”

“What do we do?!” the recent Trainee cried out.

It was Left’s decision to make. He was the one in command. He was the one this operation had been entrusted to. And with less than ten minutes to go, there was only one way he could reasonably choose.

“We evacuate…” he murmured. Then he said it louder. “We evacuate!”

“No!” The Trainee’s eyes were wide with desperation and anguish. “What about the Day of Truth? Are we just abandoning it?”

The Sergeant cut him off with a sharp clip round the back of the head. “Are you questioning direct orders now, kid?!”

The Operations Chief continued. “We don’t know what sort of attack will follow up this setback. Each Left who survives is one more who can seek out our Brother. Who can come to our Brother’s aid when we find Him. Who can get to the bottom of what defeated us today.” He gestured over towards the doors through to the staging area. “Open all the blast doors. Then abandon posts. Four to a vehicle! I don’t want to see any driving off half-full. Bring the acolytes with you if you can, but don’t put any Myrmidon’s life at risk to do so.”

“Where do we go once we’re out?” the Sergeant asked.

“Scatter,” was Left’s answer. “They’ll be hunting us. The degenerate world outside can’t abide having pure souls like us among them. So we scatter, evade them, and try to regroup later.”

A chorus of ‘Yessir’s came from around the Operations Centre. Left could trust that his orders had been understood, and that they would be obeyed to the best of the Myrmidons’ abilities. As the various Lefts scrambled into action, the Chief of Operations allowed one more murmur to escape his lips.

“May Brother be with you.”

—-

1st January 2029

Today was the day. Today was the day when everything went wrong for Free the Soul. And so Left, most skilled of all the Myrmidons and an Elite among all of Brother’s Elite Agents, would get to use all of his talents holding together what was left.

In the evacuation from the Free the Soul compound Left had stuck close to the Chief of Operations: his talents would be put to best use by those with more information about the bigger picture. They’d ended up in an off-road vehicle with the Trainee Myrmidon left had seen preparing for his graduation mission three weeks before, and his Drill Sergeant. They were heading east straight across the desert, not having seen any of the other cars full of Myrmidons since the compound had gone up in a ball of unhallowed flame. The Trainee at the wheel, handling the driving, allowing the three more experienced members of their reduced group to put their heads together and devise a plan for this unexpected situation.

“We need to find somewhere to regroup,” the Ops Chief said. “That has to be our first priority. If we can get a stable place to act from, we can –”

Long term planning might be the Ops Chief’s area of expertise. But evading enemies out in the field was Left’s. He interrupted. “First off,” he said, turning to address the Trainee in the driver’s seat, “turn south here. A full ninety degrees.”

“Y-Yessir!” the Trainee replied. It took a while for him to get his bearings – Left wouldn’t have been impressed with driving skills like that if he’d first seen them in any ordinary mission – but then the car began to turn, skidding slightly but controllably on the dunes.

“Huh?” the Sergeant gasped from the seat in front of the Elite. “Don’t we need to get as far away from our compound as possible?”

Left scoffed. “If we flee from the compound at top speed in a straight line it’ll be obvious to any of our enemies where to look for us. And when they spot this vehicle it’ll be obvious that it’s us. An unpredictable path will let us outwit them.”

“I presume you have a route already planned, Left,” the Chief said. He paused, considering. “Very well. Engage your plan. Where will we be once we’ve slipped any pursuers we might have picked up?”

“There’s a safehouse my squad used on a previous mission,” Left explained. “That’s where we’ll hole up as we make our plans. The safehouse has food stocked up, a cache of weapons and equipment, clothing to replace all of your robes. All I need to do is reactivate one of my previous cover identities and we’ll have access to all of that.” He paused; a thought had shot through his mind. “On that note, names.”

“Names?” the Trainee asked. “What do you mean?”

Left sighed. “We don’t know how long we’ll be out there, among people who reject Free the Soul. Among people who hate Brother, and hate the name of ‘Left’. All four of us will need cover identities if we’re going to interact with those people. I’ll be able to forge papers once we reach the safehouse, but it’s more important that you get used to acting as those identities. If you call me ‘Left’ in public instead of using my cover identity’s name – Elliot Adams – you’re going to bring a whole load of problems down on our heads.”

The Trainee’s eye twitched. “We’re… going to have to pretend to be apostates?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Of course we are,” Left replied. Brother damn it, novices were annoying when they had to be led everywhere by the hand. “Come on. You’re a big strong Myrmidon now. This isn’t going to stop you, is it? Start thinking about a name for your cover identity. You’d better have come up with one by the time I get back to you.”

The Drill Sergeant picked a name for his cover first – Stephen Raynor – and Left murmured it a few times under his breath to make sure he could say it naturally when the time came. It took a bit longer for the Chief of Operations – they had to go back and forth a bit to find a name that sounded right, the Ops Chief not having been out in the field for such a prolonged – but they eventually settled on calling him Charlie O’Brien. Finally, Left turned back to the Trainee.

“Come up with a name yet, kid?” he said. “Oh, and turn north-east here. Keep an eye out on the freeway as we approach so no-one sees us joining the road.”

The Trainee spun the steering wheel around slowly. Left would hardly be an Elite if he couldn’t tell from the Trainee’s body language that he was doing it slowly to try and stall.

“Come on, kid. Pick a name for yourself, or I’m just gonna end up sticking you with ‘Trevor’, or something like that.”

The Trainee craned his neck around to meet the Elite’s gaze. “My name…” he murmured, “is Left.”

The Elite snorted. “Trevor it is, then. You’d best get used to it. It’s gonna be a long time before we’re around enough true believers in Free the Soul to use our real names in public.” He paused, chuckling to himself. “And if you think using a different name is bad, you won’t like the other thing we’ve got waiting for us at the safehouse.”

“What’s that?” the Sergeant – soon to be called Stephen – asked with such brusqueness it was almost like a bark. “What else do we need to do?”

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The rest of their flight from the Free the Soul compound went uneventfully. They joined the freeway without being seen, at which point they were indistinguishable from any other vehicle that had been on the road to any but the most observant of viewers. The convoluted route they took through the road network, including three moments when Elite Agent Left instructed the driver to double straight back on themselves, should have thrown off or exposed any tail they’d picked up. Left was pretty confident that they hadn’t been followed. When they arrived in the suburbs around Denver it was just as night was beginning to fall and the streets they were driving down began to grow dark.

Which was a good thing. It wouldn’t have done them any good if anyone had seen the other three Lefts before they had a chance to change out of their robes.

Left gave the driver directions to the safehouse, a large suburban house on the bend of a winding residential street. After a thorough look both ways down the street to make sure none of the occupants of the other nearby houses were looking out their window, Left bundled the other three Lefts out of the car and through the front door into the house. Now free from any possibility of prying eyes, Left breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned around to face the others, then gestured around the clean, well-furnished rooms they’d entered into. “This is where we’ll be living for the next few months. Make yourself at home!”

Left took them on a tour through the safehouse, starting with the wide-plan lounge, the dining room, and the well-stocked kitchen on the ground floor. Next up were the rooms on the upper floor, which had all been converted to bedrooms so that the safehouse could house as many Free the Soul agents as necessary.

As they passed through those bedrooms, observing the smooth mattresses and soft quilts on each one, the Trainee spoke up. “Is this really the sort of decadence apostates live in?” he asked. With a slight, disdainful shake of his head, he added, “No wonder their souls end up so wretched.”

“Remember your training, Left,” the Sergeant interrupted. “You’ve got to learn to steel yourself against all this, if you’re going to be an agent for Free the Soul.”

The Ops Chief turned to Left, peering intently at him. “I presume there’s a reason why our hideout is furnished so unnecessarily extravagant?”

Left had the answer to that particular question ready in an instant, of course. “Our safehouse needs to blend in among all the other houses on this street. We can’t take any risk of being discovered by our enemies.” Since they’d just finished touring the upper floor, it was the perfect time to change the subject. “Let me show you the weapons and tools we have stashed here, next.”

Since those were the sorts of items that would instantly, one-hundred-percent certainly, expose the Myrmidons to anyone who saw them, the weapons and other equipment were stored in the basement, the path down being concealed behind a false panel in the kitchen. After showing each of his comrades the trick to removing the panel – and emphasised the importance of putting it back in place correctly – Left led them down and turned on the lights.

The Sergeant gazed around the weapon racks on the walls – the collections of combat knives, various handguns, small machine guns, even a couple of assault rifles and a bandolier of grenades – with admiration. “You weren’t lying when you said this would be a good place to launch our counterattack from.”

Left let out a hearty laugh. “Now, would I ever lie to any of my brothers?” Then his expression grew serious. “Now, there’s one more thing we need to do before we settle in.”

“What is that?” the Ops Chief asked. His forehead furrowed, puzzled. “Wait… this is what you were talking about back in the car, I presume.”

“Exactly right!”

Leaving that there, Left headed deeper into the basement in search of what he needed. He headed straight past the weapons, of course, and also past the cabinets that were next along the walls and contained electronic warfare equipment, rappelling gear, field medical kits, and other equipment that the Myrmidons who used this safehouse would need to be successful in their sacred mission.

Finally Left reached what he was looking for right at the back end of the basement: a small bag next to the wardrobe which contained whichever clothes, uniforms and disguises wouldn’t be suitable for storing upstairs. From inside that bag Left drew four tubes full of gooey, viscous liquid. He checked the labels, then presented them to the others with a flourish. “Ta-dah!”

“Is… Is that what I think it is?” the Ops Chief asked.

“Yes, that’s hair dye, alright,” the Sergeant replied.

The Trainee gasped, almost shivering in place. “Hair dye?! We’re gonna have to get our hair dyed? But… But the perfect form of Left? It’s blond! We’re supposed to be blond.”

Left shook his head gently. “Look. If four identical men arrive at this house, it’ll be obvious to everyone around us. Especially if our enemies have taken advantage of our vulnerability to propagandise against us. So, we’re going to have to change our appearances. Get our hair cut, change its style and, yeah, get it dyed. You think you can do that, kid?”

The Trainee – looking so young and inexperienced even though, objectively, he had an identical appearance to all the other Myrmidons – took several deep breaths in and out. “This is for our Brother, right?” he asked. “So we can regroup. So we can rescue Him from our enemies?”

“That’s right, Left,” Left said softly.

Trainee Left nodded firmly, straightened his posture, and met Elite Agent Left’s gaze head on. “Then I can do it. Dye my hair.”

“With an attitude like that you’ll go far, kid,” Left replied.

And the Trainee would have to go far. They all would. They might have survived the disaster that had befell the Myrmidons and the Day of Truth, but they had a long way to go if they were going to rebuild.

If they were going to bring Free the Soul to its eventual victory.

—-

25th March 2029

Today was a day like any other. For three months now, Sergeant Left – he was going by Stephen, now, but he’d kept his real identity at the core of his being. He’d have to, if he was going to provide a good example to his oh-so-recent Trainee – had been waiting for the news that would let the four Myrmidons in the safehouse get back into action.

That news seemed no more likely to arrive that day than it had any day previously. Ops had been hard at work, trying to establish channels to any other cells of Myrmidons that had survived. But there hadn’t been any reply yet. Had there really been no other survivors? Had every other Myrmidon been captured; or worse, killed? The Sergeant would have guessed that their vehicle would have been most favoured in its chances of escaping, with the Elite’s guidance allowing them to evade pursuit. But every other vehicle had failed? What was the point of him training up Myrmidons for so long if his training helped them succeed in the crucial moment?

And then there was the question of Brother. How had He disappeared from the Myrmidons’ watchful sight, at the moment when it had been most important for them to be ready to defend Him? Brother could perform miracles; the Sergeant knew that. But that miracle seemed to work at cross-purposes to anything Brother could hope to accomplish; it only made the Myrmidons’ life and mission harder.

In the meantime, all the Sergeant could do was stay ready, and keep the others ready as well. Which was why he was out in the backyard of the safehouse, engaged in a sparring match so he could keep the Trainee’s hand-to-hand skills honed. They’d put on protective padding that they wouldn’t have in proper Myrmidon training. Between that and their changed appearances – they’d both cut the long golden locks of a Left down to a crew-cut and dyed what was left, black for the Sergeant and brown for the Trainee, and the Sergeant had allowed a beard to grow in as well – they wouldn’t have looked to observers like anything more than a pair of average martial-arts enthusiasts.

Particularly skilled enthusiasts, of course: Left’s Myrmidon pride wouldn’t let him settle for less, plus the training wouldn’t have any benefit if they weren’t going all out. And it quickly showed that Left was comfortably more skilled than his Trainee, when he got control of one of the Trainee’s arms with a well-time grapple, swept his leg out to kick away his ankle, then threw the Trainee onto the grass.

As the Sergeant held out a hand to help the Trainee back up, he sighed. “You’re better than this, Trevor.” Left changed the name for the benefit of any of their neighbours who might overhear. “If you take risks like that in a real fight you’re going to get hurt, you idiot.”

‘Trevor’ glowered back at him sullenly. “You’d have put me in the ground even if I hadn’t done that. Let’s face it, you’re better than me. I’m not going to beat you in a sparring session unless I take somerisks.”

“You aren’t pretending you picked up that bullshit from me, are you?!” the Sergeant barked, giving the other Left a quick clip around the head.

The Trainee quickly replied. “No, Ser… Stephen!” He was still a bit out of step, keeping to their cover identities. Something else they’d have to work on.

His point made, the Sergeant softened his tone for the rest. “Nothing like that matters in a real fight. A superior opponent will just take advantage of a mistake like that even harder. That’s even more of a reason to do the right thing, every time. Remember what I taught you.” The Sergeant couldn’t say aloud what he usually would have: that as clones of Left they were unsurpassed in physical potential, and would therefore inevitably win any fight as long as they didn’t make any errors their opponent could exploit. It didn’t matter. He’d hammered it in enough during drill that it should have been as instinctive to the Trainee as breathing. “Let’s do this again,” he said once the Trainee was steady on his feet once more.

Before they could start, though, a voice drifted over the fence that divided their backyard from the next garden over. “Stephen, Trevor, at it again boys?” the Myrmidons’ next-door neighbour, an older, grey-haired, wiry-thin lady named Sophie, asked as she came to peer over the fence, her eyes only just making it over the top of the wooden panels.

The Trainee shrugged as he turned to address her. “Got to stay in shape, right?” he said. “The way the world’s coming to.” He’d been overly withdrawn the first few times they’d interacted with their neighbours, but since then he’d gotten used to putting the façade of ‘Trevor’ over his Myrmidon core.

“Oh you are right, you are right,” Sophie replied, her voice sing-songily light. “If anything were to happen around here, I’m glad we’ve got some big strong men like you around to take care of it.”

“I’m sure nothing’s going to happen, Sophie,” Left replied. Of course nothing was going to happen. The Elite Myrmidon had picked this neighbourhood for his hideout precisely because it was so safe from anything that would disturb or expose them.

“Well if you’re sure, dear,” Sophie replied. Then she perked up. “Stay there, boys. I’ve got something for you,” she exclaimed, before disappearing back behind her fence. When she reappeared she’d come round to the Lefts’ side of the fence, into their backyard, carrying a small serving tray with four glasses sitting on top. “Freshly-squeezed orange juice, just for you. Come on! You’ve got to be thirsty after all that rough-and-tumble.”

The Trainee shook his head, almost wildly. “N-No, we couldn’t.” A quick inquisitive glance the Sergeant’s way made the double meaning in that clear.

The Sergeant cut the Trainee off by stepping forward and lifting the closest glass of juice from the tray. “Drink up, lad,” he said. “Gotta rehydrate. Even we can’t keep going forever without that.” Once the Trainee had taken a glass as well and started to slurp it down, Left turned back to Sophie and nodded. “Thanks very much.”

“Take some for your housemates, as well,” Sophie said, gesturing at the other two glasses on the tray. “It’s an old family recipe, you know. The times my poor old mother would show me how to get the amount of sugar just right to make it come out right…” Once Left had taken hold of the other two glasses she tucked the serving tray under her arm, sighing as she did. “You know… I never see Elliot or Charlie around much. Are they okay? Not settling in?”

Left quickly shook his head. “Work’s keeping them busy.”

That was a completely lie, naturally. The four of them were supported, monetarily, from untraceable accounts that had been set up long ago and filled with money by forethinking Free the Soul adherents; it wasn’t like they needed employment. Nor was it in any way right for a good Left to offer his labour in service to those who controlled the degenerate world that Free the Soul needed to change. But it bolstered the cover identities they were using, and gave the Elite Agent a good explanation for the time he’d left the house vacant between when he’d first used it and when the four of them had arrived, to claim that they were working from home. Since the area they’d claimed to be employed in was informational security, the Elite had been confident that they could pretend to describe it with no-one they were speaking to being able to or even wanting to follow the details. Case in point…

“A bit of an emergency came up at work,” Left continued. “Elliot’s been up all night tracing the incursions to see if they got anything, but…” He finished off with a calm, resigned shrug.

At that moment the back door to the house opened up and Ops stepped out, a dour expression on his face. Unlike Left and his Trainee he’d kept the blond hair of a Left rather than dying it, but with it cut much shorter than any Myrmidon would usually wear it he looked more than different enough that there was no danger. “There’s news from…” Ops started off, before flicking a quick look Sophie’s way, “… work. You’d better hear it.”

Sophie just nodded softly. “You boys get on it. Don’t let an old lady like me hold you up.” She raised her voice to call into the house – “Enjoy the OJ!” – before disappearing back into her own garden.

After making sure Sophie really had left, the Sergeant turned to meet the Chief of Operations’ gaze, his expression stern and serious. “What news? Are we ready to go back into battle?”

Ops shook his head. “But you should come and see what we’ve found.”

He led the Trainee and the Sergeant back into the house – the Sergeant made sure the back door was closed and very firmly locked behind them – and up to the main bedroom, where the Elite was hunched over the computer they’d set up there. The Elite brushed the long, ginger-dyed fringe out of his eyes as he peered at the screen, scowled at what he saw, then turned to look up at the other Myrmidons as they entered.

“Can’t disagree with your analysis, Chief,” the Elite said to them morosely. “Looks exactly like what you said it was. Have you explained it to them, yet?”

“No,” Ops replied. “But it won’t take long.” He turned to face Left and his Trainee, his hands clasped together gravely. “First things first, it looks like we can be certain that our Brother failed in His anointed task to remake the world.”

The Trainee gasped. “No! He couldn’t! It’s not possible!”

The Chief cut him off with a brusque wave of his hand. “I’m sorry. But it’s true. Only I and a few other high-ranked Myrmidons were informed of how exactly Brother would accomplish it. But if it had worked, we would have seen signs of it by now. Nothing about this corrupt world has changed. So the mission was a failure.”

The Sergeant sighed. He’d known, inside, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Hadn’t wanted to compromise his faith in Brother. “I’m guessing that’s not the only reason why you’ve brought us here, sir,” he said.

“As you know, I’ve been trying to reunite us with any other cells of Myrmidons that escaped the disaster at the Holy Site. What I’ve found has been… disturbing. Some, even many, of them survived, and established bases from which to carry out Free the Soul’s mission. But by the time I was able to identify them one of our many enemies had done the same and wiped them out. That was true for each and every cell I tried to contact.”

“Someone’s been killing our brothers?!” the Trainee exclaimed. “We have to avenge them!”

The Elite chuckled. “Now I’d love to do that, too. But maybe you should learn everything we’ve got before you march all four of us into the meat-grinder in a Brother-forsaken wild goose chase.”

The Chief continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “Last week, I was able to make contact with a group of our brothers that had been sheltered by one of Free the Soul’s most devout adherents. We had just managed to confirm that our identities were true; that neither of us were impostors hoping to infiltrate and finish Free the Soul off. And then, yesterday, they too fell silent.”

“The same enemy got them.” The Sergeant didn’t need to make that a question.

“True. But this time we were able to find out who they were. Since we knew when they had been attacked, I was able to track down surveillance footage from just beforehand.” Ops gestured at the computer screen and said to the Elite, “Show them, Left.”

The Elite slid the chair he was sitting at to the side and turned the computer their way. On the screen, in grainy but unmistakable footage, was a slender, cocky-looking man with white hair, giving orders to people just off screen with a vigorous arm gesture. The Sergeant recognised the man instantly, righteous hatred swelling inside him.

Only the Trainee hadn’t had that reaction to the image. Though he did know this was someone to hate, all he said was, “Who is that?”

“You wouldn’t have been briefed on all of Free the Soul’s enemies until you were going out in the field more regularly,” Left explained. “That’s Aoi Kurashiki. He’s the brother of the leader of Crash Keys, and their most dangerous operative.”

The Trainee’s eyes widened. “Crash Keys! They attacked the Holy Site, just before it all happened.”

“That’s right,” the Chief said with an encouraging nod. “And, once I knew what to look for, it was clear that they were behind the deaths of all our other brothers as well. There was only one conclusion I could reach. One thing that could explain both the disaster that befell us on what should have been our day of glory, then the systematic hunting down of everyone else who escaped.”

“That’s gotta mean…” The Trainee fell silent, his brow furrowed. Then he gasped, a sharp, strangled rush of air. He’d worked out what the truth had to be. Why the four of them had ended up in this situation.

“… There’s a traitor. Someone betrayed us to Crash Keys.”

—-

2nd August 2029

The days were passing by, faster and faster. Chief of Operations Left had kept his cell of Myrmidons together as best he could, and their shared faith in Brother was a glue stronger than any mere camaraderie. Still, the months without anything for them to do – surrounded by the outside world and all its temptations and corruptions, the lingering threat of being betrayed to a Crash Keys death squad hanging over them – could only be wearing them down. With no guidance from Brother to lead the way there wasn’t much more they could do.

In the weeks following their realisation of a traitor within the Myrmidons the four Lefts had started working in shifts, keeping someone up and awake at all times to watch out for the attack, whenever it came. But it never had; between the increasing fatigue and the increasingly strained excuses they’d made to the neighbours for the strange pattern of activity, the constant vigil had proven to be unworkable.

So they’d gone back to living their ordinary undercover lives.

Maybe there was some other approach they could take to defending themselves against Crash Keys. If Left could work out who the traitor was, how they’d infiltrated the Myrmidons and sabotaged them on the Day of Truth, what secrets they’d communicated to Crash Keys, then maybe he’d be able to anticipate their next move. Or even lead his Myrmidons out and attack them first.

So the Ops Chief was down in the hidden basement below the safehouse, at one of the workbenches that they had set up there. The device that had been used to bring down the compound’s servers – the Elite Agent had brought it with them in their flight, after he’s disarmed it – lay open on the worksurface, its wires and innards exposed. The Elite had said that he’d recognised that type of device when he’d first found it, and now that Left was looking inside it the device certainly bore all the hallmarks of Myrmidon construction. Yet more evidence that the person who planted it was a traitor to the Myrmidons, no matter how much it twisted Left’s guts to think that.

Even the acolytes at the compound had been chosen for their utmost loyalty to Brother and were individually vetted by Brother Himself; none of them should have been traitors. And Left clones weren’t supposed to be even capable of betraying Brother.

And there was also the question of how the device had been attached to the servers in the first place. Had the traitor sneaked into the Operations Centre before the Day of Truth to plant it? No. The Ops Centre had been constantly manned, especially in the days as Brother prepared the holy site for the end of the world. And the servers had been located right in the middle of the room, where any of those Myrmidons could have witnessed and prevented it. The only way the sabotage device could have been planted was if every single one of those Lefts had been traitors, or if all of them had been struck blind at the same time but hadn’t realised that had been done to them.

And yet, the sabotage device had been found there, attached to the servers.

Left’s thoughts were distracted when he heard the panel entrance to the basement being shifted aside. After the firm click as the panel was slid back into place, footsteps descended the stairs towards Left. The Trainee emerged from that passageway into the basement chamber, a weary look in his eyes that turned to a flash of surprise when he saw the Chief sat there.

“Sir!” the Trainee exclaimed. “You’re down here as well?”

Left nodded. “I was just re-examining this device. If I just…” He trailed off. His subordinate had no need to know this. “What are you planning on doing down here?” Left asked instead.

“I need to purify my soul,” the Trainee replied.

A usual enough request. “Carry on, then,” the Chief said.

The Trainee headed over to the far end of the basement and laid out the implements used for Free the Soul rituals in a rough ring on the floor, before reaching into the wardrobe down there for the Free the Soul robes they’d stored there. When he’d donned his robes and knelt down in the centre of that ring he began the purification, closing his eyes, making the sign of the ‘f’ and chanting a prayer under his breath. When the chant was finished, just before moving onto the next part of the ritual, the Trainee opened his eyes again and looked up at Left. For a moment his lips quivered, but then he shut his eyes again and reached out for the mortification cables.

The Chief pushed the remains of the sabotage device away from his across the workbench and turned in his seat to face the Trainee head on. “You can speak up, Left, if you feel the need. Your spiritual health is important, to all of us here. Please, speak your mind.”

The other Left breathed in and out, several times, deeply, before replying. Eventually he said, “You must think I’m weak. Too weak to be a real Left. I’m needing to do this nearly once a week, now.”

Left sighed. “Do you think the rest of us aren’t purifying ourselves, also? Living for so long surrounded by this fallen world is something that threatens to taint all our souls. Never mind having to live here without His guidance. The methods He provided are a salve to us all, and it’s no weakness to rely on them.”

“But…” The Trainee shook his head forcefully. “Aren’t we supposed to be the new race of humankind? Those with strong enough wills to avoid the sins of other, lesser humans? If my willpower isn’t strong enough, if I’m not good enough, then…”

As the Trainee trailed off, the Ops Chief nodded gently. “Let me tell you something about willpower, Left,” he said. “You’re right that strength of will is a virtue. The crowning virtue, for those of us who follow Brother and act in His name. And it does you credit to want to strengthen yours. What I’m about to tell you is something you can only really come to understand from experience.”

The Trainee looked up, his eyes open and filled with hope. “What is it, sir?”

“Willpower isn’t some sort of finite resource you use up. Or some sort of quality a human can either possess or fail to possess. It’s a choice. Willpower is a choice. The choice to do the right thing, every single day of your life. You choose to keep up with your exercises and sparring, to keep your body strong. And you choose to act with kindness and generosity towards your brothers, and do good by your Brother. Those bonds of loyalty, renewed with every choice to maintain them, are what keep us together.”

“Yes, sir?” the Trainee said, nodding hesitantly.

“And look at us.” The Chief gestured around, taking in all of the basement and also the safehouse up above. “Where the rest of humankind was content to let the world fall to greed and ruin, we in Free the Soul made the choice to kill all those that cover the world in filth, to restore and rebuild it. And even when our most direct path to that was taken from us, we persevered. You made that choice, just as much as any of us, and you should be proud of yourself for that.”

“I guess so… But if that’s true, why is my soul feeling so weak? Why do I feel like my willpower is wasting away, compared to the rest of you?”

Left stood up from his workbench and strode over to the back end of the basement. He knelt down on the floor there, in front of the Trainee. “That feeling in your soul, your urge to purify it, isn’t a lack of willpower. It’s your recognition of what willpower requires. Your soul is calling out for the tools it needs to make the right choices, and you’re answering it diligently. You’re a Left, Left. You should trust your instincts.”

The Trainee pondered that for a moment, his posture relaxing. But he still reached out for the mortification cable, and his hand was still visibly shaky and hesitant as he did so. Left could tell that he still wasn’t in the right state of mind for the purification of his soul to take the most effect.

“I’m sure you didn’t come down here to discuss abstract theology with me,” the Chief added, softly. “Tell me, what’s really causing this?” A pause; the Chief took stock of how the Trainee reacted to that. “That’s an order, if it has to be.”

“Yessir.” The Trainee nodded firmly. He took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then spoke. “We’ve been living among people ignorant of Free the Soul, right? For months, now. And we’re even having to interact with them, to maintain our covers.”

“That is a very trying situation for your soul, indeed,” Left said.

The Trainee continued, “I know these people are supposed to be degenerate, fallen, their souls filled with sin and greed. That’s what Brother taught us. It must be true. But when we’re talking to them, when I’m pretending to be ‘Trevor’, I just can’t see that. Take that woman, Sophie, next door. If her soul is as degenerate and sinful and wretched as she has to be, wouldn’t it be easier to see than this?”

Left nodded a few times. He took the moment to collect his thoughts. “Do you really believe that it’s a sin to sympathise with human beings who are not yet members of Free the Soul?”

“But we’re supposed to stay separate!” the Trainee gasped, slapping his palms against his knees. “We’re supposed to stay above them. That’s how we keep free from being contaminated by their sin, isn’t it?”

“That’s true, for most human beings,” the Chief explained, “but there are several people out there, many even, with the virtues to evade the corruption that engulfs the rest of the world. Where do you think our acolytes come from? They hardly grow on trees. They’re just ordinary humans with enough virtue to recognise the truth of our Brother’s words.” He reached out and laid his hand on the Trainee’s shoulder. “It’s no sin to associate with those with such virtue, whose souls are yearning to be free, even if they don’t yet know the words or the truths Brother taught us.”

The Trainee’s eyes brightened. “Thank you, sir!” he exclaimed. After a short pause, he asked, “Should we try to recruit her? Bring her into the fold so that her soul can be free?”

Left furrowed his brow, making a show of thinking about it. But when he replied, his answer was what it had to be. “No. If we were still at full strength, perhaps. But as vulnerable as we are right now we can’t afford to take the risk.” It wouldn’t do for the rookie to be getting idea into his head that would compromise the mission of the rest of them. Once he’d said his piece he stood up, stepping away from the ritual ring. “Finish off your purification, Left. When your soul is fully free once more, think over what I’ve told you with a clear mind. You’ll see things differently.”

And with that Left turned away. He headed up the stairs back to the safehouse, the Trainee’s grunts of muted pain receding behind him.

When the Ops Chief arrived back in the safehouse kitchen, he found the Elite Agent and the Sergeant standing around the counter there, discussing something intently to the point where they were completely ignoring their lunch. After fastidiously locking the false panel back into place over the entrance to the basement, the Chief went over to join them.

“What’s the news?” he asked them, a sharp staccato command. “Have we received word from Brother?”

The Elite shook his head. “Closer to home, I’m afraid, boss,” he said. He then turned to the Sergeant. “Give him the details, Stephen.”

‘Stephen’? The Chief’s eyes narrowed.

“Our neighbour,” the Sergeant said with a sigh, “has invited us over to a ‘barbeque’ next week. We…” He glanced out the kitchen window, his eyes pensive. “… need to decide how to deal with it. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m not sure what the best course of action is.”

“Surely we should reject it. It is in our best interests to minimise our engagement with those around us.”

“Hold up, Chief,” the Elite interrupted. “That ain’t such a good idea. If we act too standoffish all of a sudden we’re going to blow our cover to smithereens, just as surely as if we paraded down the street wearing our robes and singing Brother’s praises. We need to be cautious, but that’s no reason to make a snap rejection without thinking it over.”

“And, also…” The Sergeant glanced away contritely. “As far as I can tell, I already accepted the invitation. I apologise, sir. I had to make a decision when she asked. As far as I could tell, Brother’s will was telling me to accept.”

Left grimaced deep inside, but nodded openly. He wouldn’t have made it far as Operations Chief of the Myrmidons if he couldn’t manage subordinates having flexibility and using their own judgement in the field. “Very well. We’ll meet tomorrow at 8:30am to brief on what we should expect. I hope you’ve made the right choice, Sergeant.”

Even without an enemy directly in front of the Myrmidons under his command, directly threatening them, there was still plenty of unwelcome surprises and decisions to be made. Left would keep his squad of Myrmidons together as best he could.

—-

16th November 2029

Today was…

The four Lefts had attended several other events and invitations after that first one. Always with some trepidation – the worry of blowing their cover loomed constantly, and they were ever-wary of the impact on their souls from immersing themselves in the outside world – but each time passed without consequence. Bit by bit they were getting more accustomed, knowing exactly what to say and do to navigate the thin thread between their obligations and their cover identities. Even the Trainee was perking up, gradually recovering from the malaise that had weighed down his soul over the previous months.

And today, one more little interaction with the neighbours had wrapped up without incident. The meal they’d eaten over at Sophie’s house had been hearty and filling, without any of the unnecessary luxury and overindulgence that would sap the strength of their souls. Al

FIC: Heads or Tails?

To: @wildernessfarm

From:@windsorgirllove

Happy Holidays! I can’t believe that this is the second year in a row where I wrote an Eric and Mira fic that got wildly out of hand and will require a second chapter. Except yes I can. So, I guess you’ll be getting a New Years present from me as well!

I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Heads

“This is stupid.”

“Shhhh,” Mira peered from around the bushes. “This was the spot, I’m sure of it.”

“You must be remembering wrong.” Eric glanced behind them, into the dark, early morning forest, lit only by their flashlight. “Come on, we’ve been walking around the woods for hours now. We’re completely lost. Let’s just go.”

“Where would we even go?” Mira asked with some amusement. “This is the future. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Eric didn’t have anything to say to that. Mira narrowed his eyes and held up her hand. “Shh.”

“I wasn’t talking-”

“She’s here.” Mira smiled. “I mean, I’m here.”

“Really?” Eric tried to push past her. “Let me see.”

“Stop it. You’ll scare her.” Mira peered through the bushes. “There she is. So young and innocent.“

Eric finally maneuvered into position to see past Mira. Through the twists of the branches, there she was - young Mira, maybe about ten years old. She was sitting on the ground in a clearing, her legs spread akimbo, and was pouting, poking at the dirt with the tip of a large knife. From the amount of scratches and scrawls in the dirt it seemed like she had been there all night. She hadn’t seemed to notice the two adults looming in the bushes yet.

“Wow,” Eric breathed. “You were right.”

“No, I was joking. I’ve never been innocent.”

“Not that, I just-” Eric shook his head. “Never mind. What’s the plan here?”

“I don’t know,” Mira said, shrugging. “I figured that I would just wing it.”

“What?” Eric nearly shouted. Just as quickly he clamped his hands over his mouth and hunkered down, curling in on himself. The young Mira glanced up, brandishing her knife, but when no one appeared she huffed and flopped back down.

“What do you mean you don’t have a plan?” Eric hissed. “This was your idea!”

“Technically it was Sean’s idea,” Mira pointed out. “I just went along with it. So did you.”

“Well I- I thought that you wanted to, so… of course. If it will make you happy, or give you some kind of closure, then I’ll do whatever you need.”

Mira smirked. “Well, time travel is definitely more fun than prison.”

"That was also your idea,” Eric gently reminded her.

“And now I have a better one. Just don’t kill anyone to begin with.”

“And again, how exactly do you plan on doing this? We can’t just kidnap her or swoop out of the woods, you’ll probably scar yourself for life!”

“I know. Think about what Zero said.” Mira crouched down next to him on the ground. She sunk her fingers into the damp earth beneath them as she stared unwavering at herself, a small smile playing on her lips. “A single snail caused this to happen. Something so small completely changed both our lives. That means something else tiny could change it again. Just one small action, right?”

“What… the hell are you talking about?” Eric whispered back.

"Shh…” Mira whispered. “Just a little bit longer…”

As they had been waiting the tiniest sliver of light had slipped over the horizon. Young Mira looked up, then crouched, just the way that older Mira was, and faced the road. In the silence of the early morning, Eric could just barely make out the sound of sneakers slapping against the pavement.

Mira crept out from under the bush. “What are you doing?” Eric whispered frantically, but Mira ignored him. Her younger self didn’t notice either, completely engrossed by the road. Her grip on the knife tightened. Eric stayed hidden in the shadows, holding his breath. Mira got closer, and closer, until she was just behind her younger self. She paused, waiting. The footsteps got closer. And then…

“Ah!” Mira shoved her younger self right into the dirt, making her yell out and lose her grip on the knife. It went spinning into the undergrowth. Just as quickly, she darted back into the bush, almost tripping over Eric in her rush. He hissed when she stepped on his hand.

“Shh!” she shushed him.

“What was that?” he hissed back.

“Shut up! What was your idea, then?”

“I don’t know, but-”

“Excuse me?” someone else asked. Eric and Mira immediately froze, but the voice wasn’t talking to them. Young Mira also froze. Standing in front of her was the woman who had been out jogging. She didn’t usually come this way, but this morning she had changed her route. Because of a snail.

Eric’s breath caught in his throat. “Mom,” he breathed.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Eric’s mom asked young Mira, amusement in her voice masking worry. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” young Mira said petulantly. “I’m just… hanging out.”

“In the woods? At five in the morning?”

“Well, you’re out here too.”

Eric’s mom laughed. “I’m out jogging. Just trying to get a little exercise.”

“Well, then so am I,” young Mira said petulantly.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Well, all right, then,” Eric’s mom said. “But you still should be getting home soon. I’m sure that your parents will be worried about you being out so late. Or, early.”

“Why?” young Mira asked.

“Because they love you, of course! And when you love someone, you worry about them. You want them to always be happy and safe.”

“Do you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you love someone?”

“Of course! I love my husband, and my kids. I have two sons, one’s just about your age. I love them very much.”

“How do you know?”

Eric’s mother blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How do you know that you love them?” young Mira stared at her, owlishly, never blinking.

“Huh.” Eric’s mother stopped, considering. “Well, I’m their mother, of course. Of course I love them. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Is that it?” young Mira asked.

“Well, I guess I’ve never really thought about it before,” Eric’s mother admitted. “I just always have. But if you ask me how I know, well… I suppose it’s just like I said about your parents. I worry about them, and I want them to always be happy. And I would do anything to make sure that they keep smiling. When you find someone like that, someone who you would do anything for, whether it’s a grand gesture or something small, like making them soup, that’s when you know you love someone. When you want them to be happy.”

“Hmm,” young Mira said. “And do they love you back?”

Eric’s mother laughed. “Well, I certainly hope so!”

“But how do you know?” young Mira insisted. She stood and walked over to Eric’s mother, peering up into her eyes. Eric held his breath, and instinctively grabbed tightly to Mira’s hand. He could feel his nails digging into her flesh, but she didn’t say anything.

Eric’s mother cocked her head, her eyes soft, completely unaware of the danger that she was in. “Well, you just have to trust that they do. That’s part of love as well, trust. But you can tell they love you if they do the same kinds of things that you do for them. If they help you the way that you help them, then that means they love you.”

“Huh,” young Mira said. “So it doesn’t have anything to do with touching someone’s heart?”

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Eric’s mother said. “You touch their heart by helping them, by showing them how much they’re loved. And hopefully, they’ll do the same to you.”

Young Mira nodded, looking thoughtful. She spared a glance over to the underbrush where the knife had landed. Eric’s mother, of course, didn’t know that. She knelt down in front of her and took her hands, which made young Mira look back at her. “But whatever you’re worried about, you don’t need to worry about it, alright? I’m sure that your mommy and daddy love you very much.”

“How do you know?” young Mira asked. She didn’t sound sad or anything, she sounded as though she was actually asking.

“Because I do,” Eric’s mom said. “A mother always knows.” She stood, and extended her hand. “Why don’t I take you home? You must be getting cold out here.”

“That’s okay,” young Mira said. “I know how to get home. I live right by here.”

“Well, alright then. But I need to finish my run. I was already going this way, why don’t we go together?”

Young Mira considered this, then nodded. “Okay,” she said, and reached up and took Eric’s mother’s hand. The two of them turned down the road.

After a few moments, Eric and Mira extracted themselves from the bush, with very little grace. Eric tumbled into the clearing, groaning from stiffness. Mira stood and shook out her legs, clearly also stiff but making much less of a big deal about it. She walked over to the undergrowth and pulled out the knife that had been left abandoned there. “Yep,” she said. “Same one I took. Right out of the kitchen drawer. I think I left it here last time, too - of course, then it was covered with blood.”

“Mira,” Eric said weakly, “Could we do without the details?”

“Alright, chicken,” she said, sliding the knife into the waistband of her pants. She said nothing for a moment, and then crouched down next to Eric, who was curled up in a ball on the ground. “Hey. Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” Eric said immediately. “Yeah, of course I am, why… why wouldn’t I be?”

“Eric, you know I’m terrible with facial clues and social cues. So I hope you know how bad it is when I say that you’re a really bad liar.”

“I just… I never thought I’d see her again. Mom, I mean. She’s just how I remembered her.” He was quiet for a moment. “You know, this was the worst day of my life. And now… it’s not.”

“Hey, that’s good,” Mira said. “That means we did it. No more Heart Ripper. No more sad Eric, then. Or any of the other things Zero mentioned. Six people, right? We just saved six people.”

“Seven,” Eric whispered, his eyes wide and staring at the ground, hugging his legs.

“Seven. Hey, that’s like, almost half my victims. That’s a pretty good start. Now we just need seven more.”

Eric nodded absently to himself, not really listening. Then he furrowed his brows. “What… what do we do now?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, we can’t exactly go back to the future, right? Sean said that the device would take at least ten months to recharge, and even then, there was something about, um Schrodinger’s Cat, or something? That it might now work. Are we… are we stuck here?”

“Huh,” Mira said. “I guess so. I didn’t really think that far ahead.”

“You didn’t- what are we going to do now!?”

Mira shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I had anything really going on in the present, anyway, so…”

“I might’ve!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

“…no. But I might have!”

“Sorry. I thought you knew the risks when you agreed to come.”

“I mean… I did. Mostly. But even so, I had to follow you. I… I know you don’t need protecting, not really, but still. If something horrible happened to you and I wasn’t around to help you… I would never be able to forgive myself.” Eric stood, shaking his arms out, and squared his shoulders. “Besides, it’s my life too. I wanted to fix it. I… I needed to. I owed it to myself.”

Mira nodded. “Alright, good. But if you’re going to keep following me into dangerous situations you’re going to need to stop complaining about it.”

“Right. Of course. That, um, still doesn’t solve the problem of what we’re going to do. Since we don’t legally exist in this time period. Or we do, but as children. So, um, now what?”

“Whatever we want, I guess,” Mira answered. “We don’t have jobs or mortgages or anything tying us down. We could go anywhere we want. Is there anywhere you always want to travel to?”

“Not really…” Eric said. He stared down the road to where young Mira and his mother had disappeared. “Do you… really think we did it?”

“Saved your mom? Yeah, duh. That was her, walking away.”

“I mean, yeah, but… do you think we really stopped you from killing?”

Mira cocked her head and thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “That speech your mom gave was pretty good. Last time it took me thirteen years and a death game to figure out that the heart was a metaphor. It’s probably going to be a lot less time now.”

“Are you worried about her?”

“Well, I don’t want this to be for nothing,” Mira replied. “Maybe it’s best to watch her for a while. Make sure she doesn’t get into any more trouble, you know?”

“Stay here? In town?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s- yeah. It’s okay. Actually, I’m a little worried myself - about Mom. And Chris. Dad didn’t start getting bad until after Mom died, but what if… what if he was always going to end this way?”

“And you think that if he does, you can save them?”

Eric swallowed. “I’ll have to.”

“Alright, cool. So we’ll be like weird fairy godmothers to our younger selves.” Mira shrugged, smiling. “I didn’t really have anything else interesting planned for the rest of my life. This seems like it could be fun.”

“Is this really the rest of our life now? I mean, what are we going to do?”

“Well, first, we’re going to need new names, new identities. A house, establish credit, jobs, I guess.” Mira rolled her eyes at the thought. “See if there’s anyone in town who could have a “distant relative” appear and inherit their house after they have an… accident.”

“Wow. You, uh… you really have this planned out, huh Mira?”

“Eric, I’m a serial killer.” Mira gave him a withering look. “I have to have a back up plan.”

“Can we at least try a back up plan without murder first?”

“Fine.” Mira rolled her eyes again, but then she reached down and held her hand out to him. “Come on. We’ve got some work to do.”

“Right.” Eric reached up and took her hand, and at that moment the sun finally broke over the horizon. It was a new day.